


Tales of Azeroth: A Greater Enemy

by Zaalbeth



Series: Tales of Azeroth, Volume 1 [2]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft: Legion - Fandom
Genre: Alliance, Alliance-Horde relations, Gen, Horde, Horror, Major Original Character(s), Origin Story, Original Character-centric, Priests, Trolls, loa - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-13 06:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10508031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaalbeth/pseuds/Zaalbeth
Summary: A Stormwind envoy explores the mysteries of Netherlight Temple, and finds his loyalties tested in an unusual encounter with a troll priest.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My second piece. Written all one in go, over about 6 hours. Despite the name, Zaalbeth isn't a proxy for myself, just the character I named my account after.

“I heard de Loa since I was a child,” explained the troll. I sat in High Priest Zaalbeth’s private chambers, deep within the catacombs of Netherlight Temple. There were candles set all around the room, but even here, in the chambers of a revered priest of the Light there seemed a palpable balance between light and dark; in the corners of my eyes I often thought I could see the shadows moving, although the candle flames were straight and steady in the still, calm air.

“Dey were always dere,” continued the troll, “talkin’ to me, tellin’ me tings. Voices, all de time. Dat was just de way it was. I didn’t even know dat was special till the other children asked me who I was talkin’ to. It was a long time fore I knew why dey was even askin’. Den I got it,” the troll burst suddenly into laughter, deep and strong, “Den I got it alright from me mama, and de others in de camp. She din’t want no shadow hunter for a child.” He chuckled again, this time low and gentle. “But we don’t have no say in such tings. We just de caretakers, just de actors on de stage, as Alonsus would say. We here but to do de will of de Light, de will of de Loa.” He pointed a long finger upward. “Dey know better than we.”

The troll lapsed into silence. I wondered whether to say something, or whether I should wait. The darkness flickered in the corner, and the drape moved in an unseen wind. My mind drifted back to the matter of Netherlight, its mysterious location and the strange attitude of the priests here. The priests I had known back in Stormwind were all the same: peaceful and graceful and pious. They radiated a kind of light, a hope… something inside that pushed back the darkness, pushed back the fear. They seemed certain, resolute, pure channels for the divine light they tell me is the source of all things. There was a kind of calm around them, a complete faith in the Light and its unfathomable designs.

The priests here were different. Not that they weren’t holy, for the most part at least. They had that same feeling, that welling of light, an unquenchable luminescence that gently radiated from them. But there was more. Even the holiest priests here had something different to them. A flicker of shadow among the bright light that radiated from them. It was almost like briefly glimpsing something between dancers across a crowded room. Something deep and velvet dark among the brightness of the decorations and the dancers’ splendid raiment. I almost felt that if I were to lean in and gently part the curtains of light that hung like robes around them, something black and unspeakable would be revealed lurking just beneath.

I dragged my attention back to the troll before me. I still wasn’t sure why I was here, why I had been sent to this strange temple, why I was speaking to this priest, or why he was telling me about his childhood of all things. But since he was talking, I thought I should probably be listening.

“De Loa teach me about many tings,” the troll was saying. “About de circle of life, de day an de night, de flow of time.” The troll traced patterns in the air with his fingertips, a surprisingly graceful gesture. “Dey teach me about de Light… and about de darkness.”

My mind strayed back to the dark priests I had seen before, walking the halls of the temple in brooding silence. Rumour had it the shadow priests had finally turned to worshipping the Old Gods. My mind balked at the suggestion. The very idea that priests of the Light could be corrupted… No, I had faith in the Order. But this I could not understand. The priests of the shadow had always been drawn toward the darker areas of priestly study, as was widely known. It was from their study of the shadow that they gained power over the minds of others, the power to control, to inflict pain, to drive to horror or terror. But these powers had been used for good, to defeat the enemies of Azeroth. Ultimately even this darkness served the Light.

It was hard to imagine how worshipping the Old Gods could serve the Light. Or what place such worship could have in even this strange temple.

The darkness flickered again at the edge of my vision, and my eyes twitched involuntarily to the side.

“Peace,” spoke the troll suddenly. The sense of movement abruptly stopped and I jerked my eyes back to the priest. “Peace, it be harder den ya be tinking. It’s not about war an weapons an fightin’ an killin’…” the troll’s jaw muscles tensed, his head moving slowly from side to side. “It’s about _fear_. Fear a de other, fear a de unknown. Fear a _everyting_ , even ya own people.” He slowly leaned in, close over the light that sat between us. “Fear a ya _self_.”

The priest held my gaze for a moment, then slowly leaned back into his chair. A long silence descended. The room seemed darker now, the circle of light between us barely reaching our knees. In the stillness of the room, I felt more than heard something moving in the room directly behind my chair. I felt my eyes drawn slowly, irresistibly toward the drapes that hung along the side of the room.

“Ya see,” the priest spoke suddenly, and my eyes jumped back to his face, “We all be afraid. We be scared a enemies, scared a attack an betrayal an de tings dat move in de dark. And de ting is, de darkness _knows_ we are afraid.” The shadows flickered again in the corners of my vision, and this time even the candle flames seemed to ripple, as if moved by some stirring of air. I swallowed awkwardly and tried to keep my eyes focused on the priest’s face, now bent forward again above the candle. The light cast tall shadows upward along his face, his tusks standing forth like pillars of burning light, his eyes glimmering above like those of some wild thing deep in the jungle of the night.

“De darkness knows dis,” the troll’s voice had sunk to a whisper, “and it _feeds_ on our fear.” For a moment there was silence, and the priest stared into me, unspeaking, his eyes seeming to question and challenge me. Slow seconds passed and the darkness seemed to lean in over our meeting, the table with the candle, the tall troll priest bent intently forward, me, hunched awkwardly in my chair, caught between the fear of the dark gathering in around us and the pressure of the priest’s gaze, beating upon me like a wall of heat.

The silence lengthened, and still the priest stared into my eyes, searching, questioning. The room around us seemed to shrink and draw in, until we were the centre point, the focus, the walls and the drapes and the air itself spectating our silent, still struggle. The darkness felt palpable now, as though it were listening, watching, waiting. I fought the urge to turn and look over my shoulder, to check the corners of the room for creeping, scuttling, slithering things. I resisted the instinct to move closer to the light, to stand up and run from the room. The priest’s eyes glimmered in the growing dark.

The silence continued to deepen, gathering in around us, and I felt the hair rise on the back of my neck, running up my spine like a lover’s caress, like the touch of something slowly and unhurriedly savouring the moment before. My mind began to wander. In the silence I heard scuffing, like long paws and sharp claws dragging across the stone floors. In the darkness my eyes traced visions, shadows cast by huge, unspeakable things, shambling and dragging themselves slowly toward me, drawing closer and closer. In my mind’s eye I saw the darkness incarnate, creeping now close behind me, hunched just over my shoulder, its nightmarish head resting on me like some massive dog, breath hot on my neck, unblinking eyes gazing at me from the corner of my vision and I struggled to keep my eyes focused straight in front of me, on the shrinking island of light in the centre of this rapidly darkening room, to keep my mind locked on the priest’s steady gaze, which still bored into me. The pressure of the silence seemed unbearable now, and I felt my hand beginning to shake, my eyes starting to twitch away from the light, the silence roaring in my ears…

“But de darkness,” spoke the priest, shattering the silence, and suddenly the room was just a room, light and airy, and the candles burned brightly all around us. I let out a ragged breath, too relieved to be ashamed. “De darkness has no power,” said the troll, leaning back in his chair, “except de power we give it.” My eyes flicked upward from the floor, where they had fallen the moment the troll released my gaze. He sat gracefully in his chair, his eyes calm and solemn, his face expressionless. No trace showed of the past moment, that long moment that had seemed to last hours, bleak and lonely like the howling of wolves on a dark and moonless night far from home, far from walls and doors and safety. I shuddered.

“De Alliance has nothing to fear from us,” said the troll, his eyes still and blank, “De Horde has no interest in warring… not after dat... _tyrant_ ” - the troll’s lip curled up around his tusk, and for a moment his eyes darkened - “dat _fool_ try ta drag us back to de old ways. De Horde ain’t _neva_ goin’ back to de old ways.” He paused for a moment, his eyes once again boring into mine, and I felt his mood slowly settle back into calm. “De enemies of troll, an orc, an tauren, an elf an human an all de peoples a dis world…” the troll gestured airily, “dey ain’t so different. An dey ain’t each other. Even de mogu, an de Scourge, an de ‘high born’,” his lip curled again, but he shook his head, “dey ain’t de enemy. No… de enemy’s _in here_.” the troll tapped emphatically at his chest. “ _Dis_ is where de problem lies, where de fear an de darkness an de shadow draws its power. _Dis_ is where all de problems an enemies a Azeroth an beyond be startin’ and endin’.”

The priest sat back. “I told ya already de dark don’t have no power in dis realm. No power except the power we give it.” Here the priest lowered his gaze into mine again, and thinking back I felt a moment of shame. “All it can do is wait an whisper an taunt an tempt an feed ya fears that ye be havin’ already. De darkness feeds ya fears, aye, like de sun and de rain feedin’ de flowers an de trees. But it don’t make dem fears, no no… it can’t be puttin’ down no roots where dere ain’t no seeds a fear an doubt already planted.

“Every time you speak a word of mistrust about your allies, every time you tink a dark thought a maybe dese trolls can’t be trusted, maybe dese orcs be itchin’ for a fight again - ya sowin’ a seed a darkness, a seed a fear. An you be doin de work a de darkness. Oh, you may tink ya defendin’ your allies against your enemies, you may tink you be protecting ya precious Alliance, building ya high walls, lookin’ out for betrayal an attacks an enemies all around. But you just a playting for de darkness. Just a puppet, jumpin about at _dere_ whim.”

The troll gestured toward me. “You build mighty weapons an engines a war. _We_ build even mightier weapons, and den you just have ta build even _mightier_ weapons, an it goes on an on. De higher we build our walls de higher you build yours and pretty soon we can’t even see each other - can’t see de people an de children an de light in dere eyes - all we can see is _enemies_.

“Ya train an army a soldias, an army a troll-killers, an we train an army a man-eaters, an you train an we train an a fore you know it all we got is a land full a killers. A land full a fear an hatred an killers just bristlin’ for war, who ain’t never known nothin’ else but warrin’ an killin’ an hatin’ each other. An soon dere just has to be a war, cos we been plannin’ for one for so long, and all we know how to do is fight.”

The priest’s eyes had grown hard as he spoke, but as I watched calm returned to them, along with something new.

“But dere's a greater enemy. An enemy greater den all dese armies an all dese weapons an all dese fearsome soldias. An it right. In. _Here_.” As he spoke the troll struck his chest again, hard this time, and I flinched.

“Ain’t never gonna defeat dis enemy wi weapons. No sticks an stones ain’t gonna hurt dis enemy, mon. An dere ain’t no way to kill it, just to _starve_. _It_. _Out_. Deny it its food an its drink, an it shrink an it shrivel till it ain’t nothin’ at all.

“But as long as dere be fear in dis world,” the priest’s eyes flashed again, “as long as dere be fightin’ an hatin’ an one race killin’ de other… dat enemy ain’t never gonna go hungry. As long as we be spreadin’ lies an tellin’ each other we be better than dem, better than dose who are different from us… de darkness only gonna grow, mon. It gonna grow an grow until dere ain’t nothin’ else left. Only war, and killin’, an an enemy we can’t neva defeat.

“It don’t matter, whether ya skin is brown a green a pink a blue. It don’t matter if ya got tusks a horns a cloven hooves on ya feet. Look at us here,” the priest waved his hand, gesturing toward the door to the chamber, and the temple that lay beyond, “trolls an humans an orcs an draenei… all workin’ _together_. De Light shines through all of us. Ain’t no matter ya race a ya faction. _We all one in de Light, mon_.”

 

“So you go back,” the troll leaned back, finally, it seemed, coming to an end, “an you tell ya Alliance generals an ya royal warchief dat dere ain’t no need to be fearing de Horde. Dere ain’t no reason to be warrin’, a spreadin’ lies about us. Dis ain’t de old days. We don’t want war no more than any of ya. We want our children to grow up strong an healthy, proud… an free. Free from fear an hate an war. An dat ain’t neva gonna happen as long as de Horde an de Alliance be at each other’s throats.

“So you go back, you go back and you tell ya warchief… We got ta stand _together_. Or we don’t stand at all.”

 

The troll leaned back and closed his eyes. A silence fell, but this time it was a peaceful one, and I felt a sense of completion, and resolve.

It seemed our meeting was over, and so rousing myself from this strange encounter I prepared to leave. In practised words I thanked the High Priest for his time and generosity, and promised to pass on his words to my superiors, although as I spoke I knew there would be resistance. Decades of warring doesn’t end in a day. Generations of killing and vengeance and horror stories don’t melt away as easily as the darkness in the corners of the room when a candle is lit.

But I would try. I thanked the priest one last time and bowed low.

As I turned to leave the chambers, my eyes lit suddenly on a tall stand of armour, hidden until then by a screen that partially divided the room. My jaw dropped. The clean lines and sharp patterns embroidered into the cloth were unmistakable. It was Gladiator gear, the armour of honoured soldiers and captains on the Alliance-Horde front.

“But this, this is…” I turned to the priest, stammering. “You’re a captain?!” The troll lazily opened his eyes, and his lips slowly curled up around his tusks in a strange smile. He tilted his head back a little in his chair and returned my gaze. “I be a _general_ , mon.”

My head span. “So all this talk of peace? All this talk of trust and uniting against the darkness…?” My mouth flapped and I groped for words.

“It be no different than I be telling, little man,” the troll intoned calmly, an odd light in his eyes. “You tink for one second de Alliance ain’t gonna take any chance dey can get to crush our people? You tink dey won’t stab us in de back de moment it’s turned? It ain’t as easy as just making friends, throwin’ down our weapons and shakin’ hands, mon.”

Aghast, I looked up at the armour, magical enchantments glowing atop the rich cloth. Above the stand hung a row of medals, each crafted in the shape of the symbol of the Horde, blood red and sharp enough to slit a man’s throat. Twenty medals hung there, each marking out one thousand honourable kills, one thousand lives extinguished. Human lives, dwarf lives, draenei lives. Lives lost, taken… by this _troll_.

“B-But you’re a _priest_!” I exclaimed, turning away from the wall of grizzly trophies, unable to believe my eyes. “You told me warring was futile, that we’re the same, that we’re _all one in the Light!_ ”

The troll sat silent now, but this was not the peaceful silence of a moment ago, nor the questioning silence around the candle from what seemed like hours ago. The troll was listening, waiting. For something.

I was not deterred. “The Alliance are a _peaceful_ people. _We_ didn’t start this war!” I spoke angrily, recalling the stories of the First War, when the Horde had come roaring into Azeroth, razing farmsteads and sacrificing innocents. I thought of the decades that the Alliance had fought, the pyrrhic victories and the bitter losses, constantly retreating before this menace, this horde of bloodthirsty monsters. And even after the war was won, the cold victory of returning to our lands, burying our dead, rebuilding our homes… and waiting for the next war to begin. Then I thought of the camps, when the orcs had been rounded up and imprisoned after the Second War, humanely but firmly, for their own good. I thought of the brief peace that had bought, of how bright the future had seemed then, with the orcs finally under control, without the Horde like wolves at our door.

The priest stirred.

“Oh, some of ya may be ready to make peace, little man. Some of ya may be tinking like I do, dat dere be no point in all dis killing. But dere are some - aye, dere are always some - who see only a chance to end this conflict, to end it once an for all. Garrosh ain’t de only one to have thought a dominatin’ de other races, mon. He ain’t de first an he won’t be de last.

“Will you protect us when de Alliance armies come breaking down our doors? Will you lay down ya life to save the little trollins an de orc children? Will you spill ya own red blood to spare the green blood a ya enemy?” The troll sat back in his chair. “Ain’t nobody gonna save us but _us_. And when ya lion’s army come razing our lands or ya SI:7 come slippin’ into our rooms at night, will you be dere to turn dose armies away, to turn dat poisoned dagger from our throats?

“No. Ain’t nobody on our side. Ain’t nobody cares what happens to us. But we got each other. An as long as we got each other, de Horde gonna be _just_ fine.”

The troll was silent for a moment, eyeing me from his chair. “I ain’t speakin’ a peace for our sake, human. I ain’t afraid a fightin’ for my people. But dat ain’t gonna bring us peace. Not now, not eva. Not as long as we have dis fear and distrust in our hearts. Not as long as we see de other and we tink ‘human’, ‘troll’, ‘orc’, instead a ‘man’, ‘woman’, ‘child’.

“You know, people always want to control what dey fear. But de ting is, people don’t like being controlled. An de Horde… we had enough a dat to last for _eva_. But as long dere’s fear, and people bein’ afraid a each other, people are gonna try to _control_ each other. And dat means war.” The priest looked calmly into my eyes. “Sooner or later, we gotta start to _trust_ each other.”

 

As I stood gazing down at this troll, this proud, bloodstained soldier of the Horde, I thought of all the lives he had taken, all the lives he had ended upon the battlefield. All the good people who had marched to those wars and border skirmishes, seeking only to defend their lands, to defend their homes and their families against raiders and war parties and armies marching against them. And for what? So this troll, this High Priest of the Light could sit here and sip tea and lecture me on trusting one another?

I thought of all the people who had marched to war and never come back. The children without fathers and mothers who worshipped the mighty champions of the Alliance like heroes, like the parents they would never know. I thought of all the stupid, pointless waste of fighting and killing each other. And what had it achieved? Now the Alliance and the Horde stood side by side fighting demons and nightmares and ancient elves, and none of those wars, none of those skirmishes and border conflicts and raids in the night meant a thing. Only that we had that many less friends and loved ones and allies to stand beside us.

I raised my eyes to the troll’s face. His eyes were calm and still, like a wide, flat ocean. My throat felt thick and my eyes burned, but my breath was beginning to slow. I looked him straight in the eyes, for the first time without deference or shame.

“I’ll take your message to the generals. I’ll tell them. I’ll tell them the Horde isn’t looking for war. I’ll recommend we step down our preparations.” Without further word or farewell, I turned to leave.

Without warning, the priest leapt from his chair. Moving far more quickly than I would have expected, before I had time to so much as raise my arm he was standing over me, so close I could feel his breath on my hair, smell the pungent odour of his sweat mingled with the sweet incense of the temple clinging to his robes.

For a moment we stood, I too startled to move, the troll frozen like a statue, towering over me, ready to pounce. The candles flickered.

Then, to my lasting surprise, the tall troll bowed low. His brightly coloured hair brushed against my cheek as his head dipped gracefully down. I stood, blinking, unsure what to do, as the troll slowly straightened, until I was standing in his shadow once more.

I looked up. The light behind cast a long shadow from his tall frame. The same jungle cat eyes glimmered above in the darkness of his face, the tips of his tusks catching the light of the candles like the setting sun on the mountain tops back home. For a moment our gazes locked, and I stared into the tall priest’s eyes one more time. But I no longer felt that familiar searching force beating upon me, searching out my intentions; only a sense of resolve. Ongoing. Resolute.

I blinked, and turned away, not sure what words could possibly serve as appropriate ending for this most unexpected encounter.

Out in the hall the everyday life of the temple went on. I walked past eager neophytes, beaming clerics, hurrying along with stacks of tomes or striding off toward a portal, staves at the ready. I thought of the lives that would be lost today, out fighting the enemies of our world, demons and monsters who cared nothing for race or faction, only death. And I thought of the enemy in the room I had left behind, an enemy I hoped could one day become a friend.


End file.
